


I'll Be Your Pet

by LexiRayne2187



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, F/M, Light Bondage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monster POV, Power Dynamics, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexiRayne2187/pseuds/LexiRayne2187
Summary: She’s been alive for centuries, enduring the endless monotony of an absurd universe when she smells him; the perfect prey, ripe and ready for her. Little does she know what she’s gotten herself into.She smiles, “Do you believe in the heavens?”“I don’t know. Possibly. I’m sure I’ll find out someday.”“Allora deve esserci un inferno.”“I’m sorry?”She smirks, “Hell, then there is a hell.”
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 27
Kudos: 46
Collections: 2021 Reylo MonsterLoving Valentines, House Dadam, House Dadam Miscellaneous





	I'll Be Your Pet

[ ](https://i.postimg.cc/1z6v6TBJ/Ill-Be-Your-Pet.jpg)

On the street, the air heavy with the foul stench of stale sweat and shattered hopes, she walks. She’s livid to have to walk among the humans that have destroyed any remaining beauty in the world with centuries of unchecked carnage in pursuit of selfish fallacies. The tedium of the evening is only broken with the startlingly provocative display of artistic masterpieces in an installation across the street. She forgoes her usual hunting grounds to surround herself in something other than the detritus of broken dreams exacerbated by inebriation. In any case, she hates the taste of blood laced with too many toxins.

She conceals herself in plain sight, able to avoid any onlookers with her finely-tuned Glamor. Despite her skill, she feels the eyes of someone else on her back following her through the exhibition. Before she can contemplate further, the warmth of a looming body materialises at her side and she is overcome with the most delicious scent she can ever recall smelling. She realizes her mistake. She was so distracted by the talented brushstrokes in bold colors only tempered by the concentration of eternal damnation that she had attributed her euphoria to the novelty of raw aesthetics rather than the assailing perfume of perfect prey.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notes that the smell is coming from a large man, standing proudly with eyes fixed on the painting in front of her. Although his eyes gaze upon the undulating body of a fallen angel being dragged to the depths of hell, she feels his undivided attention on her as though he had been expecting her. The fleeting thought is pushed from her mind as she makes her plan to ensnare him.

“Do you like it? The painting, I mean.”

She’s happy to have him speak first, over the centuries of existence she has come to expect the domination of masculine pride over what is perceived erroneously as the weakness of femininity. The game is easy for her: let him have his false authority over her and when the time is right she will have traded her temporary submission for his life. At this point, she would trade anything to have a drop of his tantalizing lifesblood.

“Reminiscent of Cabanel’s Fallen Angel or Geef’s Le génie du mal.”

If he is shocked by her knowledge, he does not give it a voice, instead turning to her to speak, “Yes, but I used techniques from the Italian Renaissance. Wanted to play with the light and I think realism was the best way to evoke sympathy.”

She arches an eyebrow and breaths out in Italian, “Sei l’artista.”

He falters, a hand rubbing his neck in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

She smiles, “You are the artist et un maestro d’arte.” She knows the effect her accent and her native language have on humans, it is almost as effective as her Thrall. “Do you believe in the heavens?”

“I don’t know. Possibly. I’m sure I’ll find out someday.”

“Allora deve esserci un inferno.”

“I’m sorry?”

She smirks, knowing he wouldn’t be able to translate. Though a divine artist, he is almost as unrefined as the rest of humanity. She’ll enjoy toying with her prey. Him never knowing that though she allows him his doxa of male authority, he is quite securely nestled within her power. “Hell, then there is a hell.”

“Yeah, I mean, you must be right.” He seems almost calculating. Not in the way she would anticipate of a domineering man. His large, fathomless eyes are gazing so intently as though he can see her every thought and he is negotiating a place in her world.

She’s thrilled about having a veritable feast within the hour and rashly proffers her hand, extending her Thrall to encompass and mesmerize him. “My name is Rey and I wish to leave with you.”

His eyes widen with her admission but he doesn’t hesitate in taking her hand, as she would expect of any browbeating male human susceptible to her preternatural gifts. He falls to her talents and she is almost woeful of the ease with which she can manipulate him, that this creator of such enchanting vision would be the same as the rest. His fingers close over hers and he tells her his name, but she quickly forgets in order to push down the regret that he has somehow failed her. This is his last night on earth and he will know if hell exists before the sun rises, in any event.

They’ve made their way to his loft, a repurposed warehouse on the outskirts of the docks, far from the interference of others. She’s perusing his works in progress and decides that she will make this location her nest after she disposes of him. The idea causes a strange feeling in her chest, almost like a slight tearing forming a hole. She rubs at the spot and ignores her restless energy in favor of seducing him. She salivates just thinking about the delicious meal of which she is about to partake.

“I am yours for the night, tua puttana,” slipping the thin straps of her dress over her shoulders, she continues, “take me however you please.” The silky fabric slides deftly over her curves and pools at her feet.

He pauses then, “This-this is something more. I feel it. Don’t you? Don’t you feel it, too?”

She eyes him wearily, uncertain, “You are a man, are you not?” The depths of his fathomless eyes never stray from her own and she suddenly feels more vulnerable than she has since her own days as a fragile human. “Fottimi, now. I am at your mercy.”

His brow furrows but her spell remains strong as he pushes himself on her, devouring her lips and tangling his hands in her hair. She is momentarily surprised when her body responds without conscious thought, her nipples pebbling to brush against his shirt-clad chest and desire pooling between her legs. He backs her up against a pillar, his hand trailing down over her neck. He draws his fingers over the collar strategically placed there and she knows he is exactly like the others, always ready to pillage and plunder fertile soil for personal gain, consequences be damned.

The hole in her chest grows and she snarls, involuntarily nicking his lip with her scalpel-like incisor. The flavor of his blood bursts on her tongue and she barely has the forethought to control her strength as she switches their positions. He’s panting when she pulls away from his mouth and even though the smear of red is shared between them, he only stares endlessly into her eyes.

“I think I’m really the one at your mercy.”

“Cosa?” Her mind is frantically attempting to make sense but she feels the bloodlust start to consume her. “What?” she tries again.

“It’s like I’ve spent my whole life just waiting, and-and then you appeared as if from the shadows. You manifested before my eyes and I don’t think one night is enough.” He shakes his head and sighs heavily. “I can’t do this if it isn’t real.”

“Real? What does this mean?” She is angry, gripping him by the fabric of his shirt and repeatedly pushing him into the pillar.

Before he can answer, she is on her knees, supplicant at his feet and ripping at the zipper of his trousers. She releases his erection and can’t help the delighted mewl that escapes her throat before she starts to lap at his sizable cock. His hands fall on her shoulders, convulsively squeezing. He mutters nonsense into the ether, but her head is filled with static as the taste of his proud flesh intermingles with the remnants of blood on her tongue. She takes him further down her throat and is tempted to take his release right then but it would be a waste as she’d be forced to kill him before she could have him inside her. Her cunt clenches with the thought.

“How is this, maestro? Tell me how to please you.”

“Please, just call me Ben or-or whatever you want,” he’s panting and falls to his knees. “Please Rey, I want to be yours. You don’t need to give me anything.” He’s before her, eyes level with her own, beseeching.

She is taken aback but stands to reorient herself. Who is this man? So willing, absolutely begging to submit to her. “Why?”

She turns away when he answers, “Because I think I know you. You’re a stranger but I feel like I know you. Like I was made for you.”

The hole grows larger and deeper still, and a dark cold viciously penetrates and settles uncomfortably in her bones. She feels so cold and knows only the company of a warm body and decadent flow of his unique blood can cure what ails her. “Take off your clothes. Crawl to me.” She perches on a work table and watches shrewdly as he rushes to do her bidding. Maybe just as she was drawn to the promise of his blood, he is drawn to her slowly diminishing Thrall. Now the yawning abyss, so deep-seated, feels like it may overtake her entirely. She scolds him, prompting him to follow her orders even faster.

He hurriedly crawls to her, sitting back on his heels with his hands obediently set on his knees. He doesn’t even seem to notice the pulsing need of his arousal and heavily laden sack. His attention is fixed so narrowly on her, she begins to wonder if this could really be her preternatural powers or something more. “Why are you so ready to be my toy?”

He looks thoughtful when he says, “Not your toy, I just want to be with you.”

She isn’t sure how to respond, so instead she spreads her legs in invitation, “Keep your hands behind your back. Use only your mouth. Show me.”

He nods emphatically, eagerly complying, and clasps his hands together behind him before kissing his way up her thigh. He’s almost worshipful, reverent, when he explores her cunt seeking out the spots that incite the greatest pleasure. His tongue delves deep inside her while his nose circles her clit and she wants more, so much more. She asks for his fingers and he uses them with an assured delicacy she isn’t sure she’s ever been shown before. Not like she’s breakable, not like he thinks lesser of her because of her sex, but because he wants to discover her. So distracted by his skill, she can easily ignore the hole starting to knit in her chest.

His other hand is at her hip when she grabs his wrist and lifts his hand up over her torso. She doesn’t even realize she’s done it until he groans gutturally. Her fangs are sunk deep into that distended vein, so strong and inviting. The thick liquid fire slithers delightfully down her throat, quenching a thirst she never knew she had and igniting her own long forgotten desires. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, only curls his fingers more precisely while sucking adamantly at her oversensitized clit. Her orgasm surprises her but he just continues to work her through it, fervidly lapping at the honey escaping past his fingers and down his palm. She pushes him away from her, because she isn’t sure what to do or what to think as she feels a seeping warmth blotting out the cold that had previously been racking her body.

The Thrall should have broken by now, especially after she’d bitten him, but he’s lying there prostrate and sprawled on the ground waiting for another directive. She shakes her head to clear it and slides off the table onto wobbly legs. He only moves to help keep her steady, strong hands supporting her on the outside of her thighs. The touch is almost too considerate but he doesn’t even flinch when she sneers. He smiles up at her, cheeks dimpling. She rubs at the center of her chest, sore now but almost intact. Using her foot on his shoulder, he falls easily onto his back. She crawls over his supine form and straddles his hips. He moans involuntarily when his throbbing cock makes contact with her weeping core.

He watches as her hands move to play with her breasts, pinching her own nipples mercilessly. His eyes look pleading, not for the sake of his own desire but as though he wants to be the only source of her pleasure. She isn’t sure how she knows these things about the inner workings of his mind but she hardly hesitates to remove the collar around her throat. That’s when he sees her scar. The mark that has haunted her for immeasurable centuries, the brand that sets her apart from humanity. His hand reaches up, hoping to tenderly sooth the abraded skin but she swats him away, instead binding his wrists with the leather strap.

He never objects, just watches her knowingly. Her eyes narrow as she loops his arms over her neck and leans down to whisper in his ear, “They call this the little death but I expect yours will be much greater.” She meets his eyes but he looks unafraid, ready to meet his fate at her behest. She positions him at her entrance and slowly sinks down, hoping to acclimate to his impressive girth. His jaw works before going slack, she knows how tight her cunt must feel as she clenches around him feeling like she’s being split wide open again. But this time, there is only a blissful heat to envelope her.

She rocks back and forth on him, stimulating her clit and dragging her nipples over the planes of his wide chest. His arms sink further down her back, cradling her close. Her nails pierce into the thick chords of muscles on his shoulders and he shudders in ecstasy. She licks at the beading nectar and drags her mouth to his neck. When her mouth closes over his jugular his hands come up to hold her closer to her goal, encouraging. She moves over him faster, the sounds of their coupling messy and filling every corner of this unanticipated paradise. She’s draining him from his neck as her orgasm crests, milking his cock. Her knees go weak and he takes the opportunity to roll them over.

She’s under him, writhing, as he continues to work her through her orgasm with his hands bracing her ass. Disengaging from his throat, she cries out with abandon as he pumps into her covered in the heady elixir of his ever spilling blood. He muffles her cries with his kiss, tasting the essence of his life and sharing in her euphoria. She grabs him closer, her hands clawing at his back, his shoulder blades tearing through skin. Neither notice the encroaching darkness akin to a shroud, so consumed they are with each other. It’s only after she cums again with him releasing inside her that they open their eyes to see the gentle fall of black feathers drifting surreptitiously around them.

“Sei un angelo,” she utters in disbelief.

He seems as lost as she is, but moves to pull her ever closer. He’s still inside her, his blood slick between them and wings spreading to provide cover when he professes, “I could fall for you.”

She smirks, “I think you already have.”

**Author's Note:**

> Moodboard created by & story co-created by @Lalaitskelcey but all mistakes & flames belong to me. A very special thanks to @AmethystPanda6 and @kayla_248 for giving me support in my time of need. Thank you to @FlavorofKylo for always being there to inspire and push me to write, a wonderful friend and an even better person!
> 
> **My Contacts**  
> [Email ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ClydeLovesBooks)  
> [Twitter](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ClydeLovesBooks)  
> [CuriousCat](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ClydeLovesBooks)
> 
> **My Other Fics**
> 
> [Anti-Fragile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727042/chapters/73112892) [E] - (WIP) Clyde, Mellie, and Rey embark on an adventure through time and space to save Jimmy from the evil of encroaching darkness. Romance sparks between Clyde and Rey, but can they overcome the darkness and learn to love and accept themselves in order to do the same for each other?
> 
> [Sound Effect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28849377) [E] - (complete) Rey and Rick have developed a deeply intimate relationship in which Rey consistently pushes him to his limits, and her own, while Rick shows her the greatest veneration through unfailing submission. When Rey seeks to show Rick how much she truly cares by breaking through the boundaries into the taboo with male urethral sounding, is he ready to give himself completely and commit fully? Is she?
> 
> [Cryptid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205688/chapters/69117063) [E] - (complete) Rey Niima, the senior FBI agent working the X-Files, is preparing to spend her Christmas on a snowy mountainside investigating a suspicious increase in supposed Bigfoot sightings. Although she has the Lone Gunmen by her side, she can’t help feeling lost without her now-disgraced partner, Agent Ben Solo. As a blizzard sets in, cutting their mountain haven off from the outside world, will Rey’s investigations bring her any closer to solving the mystery of the cryptid or confronting the way she feels about Ben?
> 
> [Heritage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712132) [E] - (complete) The good folks of Snoketon have no idea what’s going on inside their borders. Local cops need help and call on Agents Solo and Niima for answers. Agent Solo is excited to discover more about what secrets are lurking in the shadows of a seemingly idyllic community. Always the rational professional, Agent Niima is just focused on helping the victims and solving the mystery with cold, hard facts. The two may clash on the job but, in the bedroom, their partnership is an irrevocable bond forged in the fires of desire.
> 
> [I'll Be Your Pet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307537) [E] - (complete) She’s been alive for centuries, enduring the endless monotony of an absurd universe when she smells him; the perfect prey, ripe and ready for her. Little does she know what she’s gotten herself into.


End file.
